An Old Score
by PokePotterfan93
Summary: It's been years since Shay left on his mission. Now, he has one thing to finish before he goes back to the seas. Rated M for language


My name is Shay Patrick Cormac. For years now I have hunted down and killed members of my old brotherhood. I was once an Assassin. If you haven't heard of the Assassins then you're one of the lucky ones. But if like me, you have seen the atrocities committed by them, and most likely you'll be next one on their list.

For nearly thirty damned years I've been hunting after a box containing a map of all the temples of Those Who Came Before. Those blasted Gods who left this world with nothing more than a handful of temples and artefacts, how I hate them so much. They've destroyed my life. I barely see my wife and son. I'm away for years at a time. It's no way to live.

That's my past though, right now it's my future I'm concerned about. Gist and I have been sailing for weeks without any real purpose, doing a pathetic supply run for the Order. "I'm sick of this blasted mission!" I shout out, twisting the wheel of the Morrigan towards Halifax. "Twenty five damn years since we've been to the River Valley and my job is to get fucking supplies."

Gist laughed at me, like the old drunk would often do. "Let's focus on the supplies, Shay. Master Kenway is counting on us to get these weapons."

I scoff at him. "We've been searching for that fucking precursor box for too long, Gist. I never get to see my wife and son lately."

Gist sipped on his damned whiskey. "Stop whining about it old boy. You never know when excitement will rear its head, I've heard rumours circling around about a new cell of Assassins in North America."

I turned to him. "What?! I knew I shouldn't have let Achilles live. I should've let Haytham kill him there and then. Damn it. Change of plan then...you take the supplies to Kenway in New York, I'm going to the Davenport Homestead." I docked us as soon as the waves allowed me to, jumping off. "I'll gain passage from one of the regulars' ship. Meet me in Boston three months from now. I'm getting this over with."

Gist frowned at me. "You need Haytham's permission to kill him, Shay. Send him a message first."

I shake my head. "No. I have to end this, Christopher. Before it's the Seven Years War all over again. May the Father of Understanding Guide You."

"May the Father of Understanding Guide You." He reluctantly says back to me. "You sure I can't talk you out of it?"

I chuckle weakly. "I have to end this, old friend. Take care of me ship until I get back."

He nods to me. "Of course. I'd wish you luck, but-"

"I make my own luck." I chuckle louder. I hadn't really said those words in a long time. Not since Liam died...

"You should get going. It'll still take a long time to get to the Homestead from Boston." He tipped his hat to me, smiling. "I hope you find solace in this, Shay. Good luck old friend."

I waved to him, watching my ship sail out to the horizon. Gist was a good man. I give him too much shite sometimes, but I trust him with my life. I observed the ships docked around me carefully. A couple of schooners and brigs were scattered around. I wasn't a fan of some of these new designs. Most were too damned delicate for my liking.

I began walking towards a local inn, scratching my neck. It'd been weeks since I bathed properly and it was starting to take its toll on me. I walked through the door, grinning as I saw an old friend. "Weeks, what are you doing here?"

Jack turned to me, smiling. "Shay Patrick Cormac, what are you doing back in the colonies?"

I shrug. "The Grandmaster has decided that I should be a supply ship in my spare time."

Jack sat down at a table. "Sounds like you've been busy these past few months. Haytham has been conflicted as of late." He whispers to me.

I don't really care, but Jack always helped me out, so I sit across from him. "What's conflicting him?"

Jack just scoffed at my question. "I forgot you've been away for some time. Our Grandmaster became a father."

I smile a little. "Happy to hear he finally settled down."

Jack smirks at me. "His son is an Assassin. One of Achilles' new lot."

I spat out my drink. "You're fucking kidding me!"

Jack's smirk always intensified when he had more news. "I'm not. But the best part is, he's working with the boy. It's strange times for the Order, my friend. You've got that look in your eye. Whose name is next on the list?"

I chuckle. "Achilles Davenport. I cannot allow him to continue recruiting for the Assassin Brotherhood. It's been a long time coming."

Jack just kept drinking. I admired that about him. He never judged my past. Gist did. Haytham understood it. But Jack always just ignored it. "You'll need his permission. No Assassins fall without his permission. Especially not here, Shay."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "I've played errand boy for twenty-five years now, Jack. If I want to do something, then I'll do it."

Jack sighed at me. "Haytham's due to arrive here tomorrow, Shay. Just speak to him about it. Things have changed since you left. The English no longer work with us. This little revolution has changed everything. You heard about the fire in New York, right?"

I nod. "Terrible tragedy. The Colonel worked so hard to make that city great." I gesture to the barmaid for a drink. "I'll talk to him tomorrow, but with or without his blessing, Achilles Davenport dies."

Jack sighs. "You always were a stubborn prick."

I laugh at him. "And I will continue to be until the day I die." I paid for my drink, toasting before downing it.

 **-AOS-**

After a long bath and some home cooked grub, I dressed for the day. I stopped wearing my Templar uniform a long time ago, too recognisable to function. It's a humorous hypocrisy. Though I hunt them down, I still use all the skills I have learned from my old brethren. I fixed my blades in place, adjusting the sleeve of my shirt. The clothes on my back were a gift from a friend in Ireland. It was nice to finally get the chance to visit my homeland, though I may have been born in the Colonies, in my heart I'm an Irishman.

I walked downstairs, instantly seeing the hat of Haytham Kenway. He hadn't changed much since the last time I had seen him, except for a little grey hair. I stopped behind him, extending my blades.

"I wouldn't even try it." He says smugly.

I felt the pressure to my ribs. "Sharp as ever, Master Kenway." I chuckle. "We need to speak. In private."

He nods, making his way to my room. I follow after a minute, ensuring we're not followed. "You wish to kill Achilles from what I hear."

I frown. "Gist or Weeks?"

"Both." He says sternly. "Times have changed my old friend. The Assassins and the Order now share a common interest in the war. I cannot allow you to risk this alliance."

I raise my blade to his throat. "TWENTY-FIVE YEARS, HAYTHAM! Twenty-five damn years since I began my mission to find the box. In all that time I have never asked for anything. Twenty-five years of searching for the box, slaying Assassins and doing whatever else the Order has asked of me. With or without your permission, Achilles Davenport dies by my hand or the Assassins keep the box."

He frowns at me. I know I've crossed the line but I don't care. "This means that much to you, Mister Cormac?"

I nod. "Your son will be spared, I promise you that. But I have to end his life, Haytham. I stopped you from killing him because of the knowledge he had. You warn your son of the dangers of the Roots and I will find that box."

He placed a package near me. "Distilled from the poison of a reptile mixed with essence of blood from a recently discovered amphibian. It's undetectable in tea. Make your peace with him before you complete your assignment. We both know you carry a great weight on your shoulders."

I take the box in my hands, placing it within one of my pockets. "Thank you. Once the box is in Templar hands again, I'm done. I've spent a lot of time helping our Order and I have earned my retirement."

Haytham just walked to the door, glancing back at me. "We'll pass that bridge when we come to it. Connor is to assist me soon, the Homestead will be empty."

I chuckle. "Did Achilles give him that name?"

He frowns. "How do you know?"

I smile sadly. "It was his son's name." I whisper. "He died when I was an initiate." I left without another word, spying two merchants. "Either of you going to Boston?" I ask bluntly.

The skinnier of the two nods. "Aye, I'm heading out Boston way. You be needing passage good sir?"

I hand him a bag of coins. "Thank you. When does your ship depart?"

His eyes widened. God I hate the greed of some people. "Evening time sir. I'm collecting some items for a friend."

I nod. "I'll be at the docks before sundown. Mr?"

"Name's Michael. And yours?"

I stare at him. "Liam, Liam Hopewell." I lie. I know I shouldn't use their names, but it's my way of keeping their memories alive.

"I'll see you then Mr. Hopewell." He ran as fast as he could. Pathetic. It'd been a long time since I'd step foot in Halifax and nothing really changed. The harbourmaster was still there, though he had just been a lad when I first laid anchor here.

I missed the Colonies. My wife and son were Irish, in my heart I'm Irish, but my life started here in the Colonies. I sat on a stump, petting a dog that has walked by. I liked dogs, I'd love to bring one with me on the seas, but it's no place for a man, let alone a dog.

It was days like this when I really missed Liam. He and I had often wasted days like this having fun. I don't regret much in life. In all honesty I'd love to kill Chevalier again. And Adewale wasn't going to play on my conscious. Hope was in that grey area where I do wish I hadn't killed her...but it was a necessity.

I sat until I saw the merchant again, keeping my pace with him. "Schooner?"

He laughs. "No sir. Frigate. I'm on my way to deliver a shipment of firearms to the Regulars in Boston."

I smile. "Weaponry?"

"Thirty cannons, five mortars and grape shots. You know what that is sonny?" An elderly man asks me.

"Special ammunition. I believe they tear the hulls off of smaller ships." I reply.

"You a sailing man?"

"I was. I'm a Captain now. But my ship is being refitted."

"What's your vessel like then, Captain Hopewell?" The merchant asks.

"She's an old style Brig. Eighteen cannons, mortars, burning oil and a Puckle Gun." I walk onto the ship.

"Puckle Gun?" He frowns. "Never heard of that, sir."

"I heard of 'em." The elderly man says. "You're a privateer?"

I shake my head. "Messenger. I own one of the first world wide delivery system. I can get a letter from here to England in three months."

"I'm impressed, Captain." He says. "And those wrist blades?"

I freeze. "I believe you may know my nephew. Goes by the name of Connor."

He frowns. "Who are you?"

"Emissary from the Irish Brotherhood. Now why don't you tell me why a couple of recruits are delivering firearms to the Regulars for?" I ask, hoping my bluff would work.

The elderly man just laughed at me. "I know who you are. Are you here to kill us?"

"You know as well as I that there's a treaty in place." I pull my guns out. "I don't want trouble."

"What business have you in Boston?" He asks, and I'm sure I can hear the sound of metal scrapping from a holder.

"I'm on leave." I say. It wasn't a lie. My mission was my own. "Boston docks is the only place my ship could be."

"The legendary Morrigan." The elderly man scoffs at me.

"Aye. My first mate is delivering supplies to the Patriots." I lower my guns. "Why are you bringing weapons to the English?"

"They're rigged." The merchant explained. "We should leave you here."

I turn to the older one. "You're from another Brotherhood. You know my mission. I'm on leave." I say again.

He let his hand off his sword. "Shay Patrick Cormac, the Enforcer."

"Milo Ramsey, the Commander." I chuckle. "Been six years you old bastard, I hardly recognised ya."

He smirks at me. "I do owe you one. Consider us equal."

I smirk back. "Fine. And ya's can keep the money."

Milo gestures to the wheel. "Why don't you take the wheel? I've to drop anchor within four days."

I scoff. "I can have us there in two." I grab the wheel. "Thank you. I know this alliance must be hard for you and your men. Considering I only discovered it yesterday."

Milo stood beside me. "It hasn't been easy, and it's more of an agreement not to fight."

I nod. "I'll be gone before it breaks down then."

He smirks. "Even Haytham's men know it'll never last."

I just laugh, trying to keep myself composed.

 **-AOS-**

Three weeks and a lot of fucking travelling later, I arrived at the outskirts of the Davenport Homestead. I don't know why, but I can't move from the spot. Last time I laid a foot on this land was my excommunication from the Brotherhood and the beginning of my new life as a Templar.

I finally worked up the courage to travel into the area. My God how things had changed since then. It was bustling with activity. Carpenters, Mills men, Hunters and Apothecarists to name just a few of the things I could see. I'm early, but I can use that time to survey the land. With a blink of an eye I jumped from the branch, reaching the river.

I spend the first three days hunting for food and sleeping in a small unused cave. I can hear arguments most of the time. Achilles and Haytham's son can't seem to agree on the partnership between the two Kenway men. I remember fighting enough times with the stubborn old bastard myself to know how he gets.

I heard him leave today, so I can finally confront Achilles. I knock on the door, smirking as he opens the door. "Hello Achilles." I say quietly.

He just opens the door wider, no surprise or sense of worry coming from his eyes. "Come on in. Close the door behind you, heat doesn't come cheap."

I chuckle gently. "Nice to see that some things just don't change." I walk into the house. "It's been a long time since I set foot in this house."

Achilles sat down in front of me. "I've been waiting twenty-five years for this day. In all honesty I actually began to think you've forgotten about me."

I shake my head. "I don't think it's possible to forget about my time here, or you Achilles."

He pours himself some tea, handing me a cup. "Haytham's finally signed off on my death then?" He asks curiously.

I smirk. "I would've came here either way, Mentor." I sip my tea, glancing at a tomahawk. "Connor, what made you give him that name?"

He sips his tea. "I saw a second chance." He whispers. "I failed a lot of people when I lost my family, Shay. Have you got a family yet?"

I nod. "A wife and son. They live in Ireland. I get home to them whenever I'm able." I sigh sadly. "I just wish I had more time with them."

"You've changed a lot from the young man who was late for every single training session." He says. I swear I can hear goddamn affection in his voice. "I often wondered, if you had stayed and if I had believed you, would they still be with us?"

I sigh. "I often think the same. But when I think about it...I would've probably joined the Templar Order eventually. You demanded too much from your recruits, Achilles. You became the very thing you swore to end. The hypocrisy of the Brotherhood got to be too much for me. Liam...Hope...I do regret their deaths, but both of them were trying to harm people."

He sighs. "You're right. I eventually became the thing I hated. Grief does terrible things to a man, Shay. I never thanked you."

"Thanked me for what?" I ask with genuine curiosity.

"For sparing my life back then." He stood up, smirking at me. "Do you mind if I go to their graves?"

I shake my head. "This is your home, do whatever it is you please." I say softly.

He picks his cane up, walking to the back door. "Bring the tea with you." He says in his quiet tone.

I grab the cups, following him out. I slip the poison into his cup, emptying some of the contents so it looked the same. "Hope and Liam?"

"All of them." He replies, taking his cup.

I kneel at Liam and Hope's graves. "I shouldn't be here..." I say sadly. It's even worse than when I killed them. I preferred the emptiness to the pain I feel right now.

"You should. No matter what happens here, you will always be who you are, Shay. You came here to kill me and yet you struggle to accept the deaths of your old friends." He sips the tea, watching me with a critical eye.

"I did not come here for a lesson. It's been a long time since I sought advice from you." I growl. "I am no longer the gullible young man who bought into the Brotherhood and its ideals with childish admiration." I stand. "I am Shay Patrick Cormac, I am my own man."

He smirks at me. "You're still the boy who had no purpose after his father died." He holds onto his cane. "The fact that you came here proves it. You seek forgiveness for the actions of the Seven Years War, but you do not deserve such forgiveness. Chevalier, Wasse, Adewale...them I can understand, but Liam and Hope. You're still just the same damn Templar Enforcer."

I close my eyes. "May your trip to the afterlife present you with those you have lost. And know that your new Brotherhood shall fall harder than the last." I begin to walk away, gripping my fists in anger.

He frowns. "The tea?" He asks softly.

I just scoff. "A special blend." I shout to him. "I took the liberty of switching yours with it. Consider it a gift, from Haytham and from me." I enter the carriage outside the house, watching the place of my rebirth behind for the last time.


End file.
